


Inhumanly Bad At Baking

by SleepingReader



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5 years after apocalypse or so?, Baking, Cooking Class, Established Relationship, Explosions, M/M, Original Trans Character - Freeform, or is she?, wahoo, which are the best tags ever!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-07 21:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingReader/pseuds/SleepingReader
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley take a couples cooking class together. The are inhumanly bad at baking. See: Michael Sheen in the Bake-off video.





	Inhumanly Bad At Baking

Crowley’s phone rang. Normally, this wasn’t very odd, as Aziraphale called him often. Today, however, the angel was sitting next to Crowley on the sofa. The TV was on. Eleanor Shellstrop and Chidi Anagonye of the Good Place had just had their first kiss, only Chidi was still Janet, and Eleanor was Eleanor and…   
The phone rang.   
Crowley did a mental headcount of the people in the room with him.   
‘Must be a telemarketer or something…’ He groaned, rubbing his eyes.  
He sauntered over to pick it up, 100% ready to tear the caller on the other end a new one.   
‘Yesssss?’ 

Aziraphale could only hear one end of the conversation.  
‘Who? Anathema? Device? Newt? Armageddon! Yes! Doing good, but that’s not why you called. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. What? Wellll… What?? A couples cooking class?? … I’ll ask.’

Aziraphale, who had deduced enough from the one-sided phone call, looked over at Crowley’s questioning gaze. Aziraphale shrugged and stuck up his thumb in the way that Adam had shown him meant ‘good’.

‘Yeah, ssssure. Fortnight? Is that in two weeks or in… Oh, the 29th. That’s alright then. No, you can’t have any. Should do cooking class yourself. Don’t you DARE… Hello?’  
He put down the receiver.  
‘She hung up.’ Crowley said dumbly.  
‘And why was that, I wonder?’ Aziraphale asked, cocking his head to the side.  
‘That Newt guy asked if we could bring him some of the dishes we made, and I told him no.’  
‘And then?’   
‘And then Anathema threatened to pour holy water into the Bentley’s windshield wiper fluid.’ Crowley said, sounding only slightly embarrassed.   
‘So, cooking class.’ Aziraphale said, knowing when to change the subject.   
‘Cooking class.’

Whatever a fortnight was, it passed, and soon it was Saturday, the 29th.   
A large black car pulled up in front of the prestigious cooking studio, where the chef was already standing in front, wearing her blonde hair in a neat bun underneath her hat.   
Crowley and Aziraphale shared a glance and grinned. They didn’t need words to say that the lamplight shining through the chef’s hat made it look like she had a little rat on her head, making her do everything he said. 

‘Welcome!’ She said, shaking their hands and leading them inside. A cheerful-looking dishwasher around Adam’s age behind the bar waved a soapy hand at them.   
‘I’m assuming the missus’s will be arriving shortly?’ She told them. Aziraphale assured her that there were no missuses of any sort, just his husband and him. A quick storm cloud passed over the chef’s face, but she recovered quickly.   
‘You’re the second... couple to show up, so you get second pick at the stations!’ The chef told them and went back outside to greet more. The cheerful-looking dishwasher pointed soapily and enthusiastically at a station in front of her, that had a large mixer. Crowley winked at her and lead Aziraphale over to the station. 

When the rest of the five couples arrived and class started, Crowley and Aziraphale quickly realised that they had no idea what they were doing.   
‘Ramen is one of the easiest dishes ever made, so feel free to add to your own recipe! I will be walking around the couples, offering help and comments.’ The chef said before indicating the recipe on the table.   
Aziraphale and Crowley looked at it. They had both eaten ramen before, but had never actually prepared any sort of meal. Still, they were adamant to do their best and to absolutely vanquish the other contestants in the competition they had just decided they were in.   
‘Half a cup of boiling water…’ Aziraphale said, after which Crowley cheerfully put a plastic cup with water on the largest burner and turned it on.   
‘Oops.’ He said after ten seconds. The burner had melted the cup on one side, causing the water to leak over the side of the cup, and seep into the burner. Aziraphale looked around, confused, and promptly launched the tomato he was cutting across the room. The dishwasher turned her body sideways so she could keep watching them better.   
The chef went over to tell them how to do it, and lo and behold, soon the tomato was cut and the water was in its proper pan. 

‘Now, strain the chicken soup for your broth through a sieve, and wash out all the bits and bobs of the chicken. MISTER FELL, NOT INTO THE SINK!’   
Aziraphale looked round curiously to see what all the noise was about, the chicken broth disappearing into the sewer. Thankfully, Crowley was quick to help his angel out.   
‘No worries, chef.’ He said, holding up a metal container of hot chicken broth. I’ve got it all he-OUCH, FUCK.’ He said, as the hot metal burned his hand and he let it clatter to the floor, spilling chicken soup everywhere. The dishwasher hid her face behind a large pot lid.   
‘Okay, okay. No problem.’ The chef told them, looking a little less genuinely cheerful. ‘I’ve made some extra broth. How about you get started on cooking the eggs, and I’ll check on Mr and Mrs. Woods.’   
‘Are you alright?’ Aziraphale asked Crowley, gently miracling his hands.  
Crowley nodded. ‘Yeah, but you don’t wanna hear what that chef was just thinking.’  
‘I’m assuming I don’t, no. Was it anything to do about our cooking?’  
‘More about our relationship.’   
‘Thought so.’

Crowley turned to the dishwasher behind them.  
‘Pssst. How do you cook eggs?’ He asked her. 

‘In hot water, in the pan. But I heard that if you put them in the microwave, they explode.’ She said with a slight twinkle in her eyes. Crowley immediately copied the twinkle. Odd. The dishwasher’s eyes seemed vaguely familiar. Crowley quickly shrugged and put an egg in the microwave.  
‘My dear, what are you doing?’   
‘Scientific experiment, Angel.’ Crowley said. Aziraphale turned to look as well, interested. He produced a notepad from nowhere and a pen from his breast pocket.  
‘It only counts as science if you write it down…’ the dishwasher mumbled, slowly ducking behind the bar. The egg started to sweat. Crowley and Aziraphale looked in closer. The couple behind them stepping in to get a closer look as well

BANG

Crowley and Aziraphale were gently but firmly told to maybe focus on making the dough for the pie that would serve as their dessert. ‘I’m sure nothing can go wrong with that.’ The chef said, hissing through her teeth.

It could, in fact, go very wrong.   
You see, Crowley and Aziraphale’s powers manifest upon belief. Crowley was able to hold up a burning Bentley because he believed he could. Aziraphale was able to return to Earth because he believed he could.   
‘Well, my dear, call me an old silly, but I don’t actually believe we are very good cooks.’ Whispered Aziraphale to Crowley as the pie crust absolutely wouldn’t come together and they could hear the chef’s angry thoughts from across the room.  
‘I actually believe we are very bad cooks.’ Crowley said, looking over at the chef. He gave a cheerful wave, splattering dough and flour over the floor.  
‘I’d throw myself out of here if it wasn’t for the fact my dad forces me to work here,’ murmured the dishwasher. ‘She’s one of the top chefs in Hollywood. He said it’d build character. Start at the bottom. Grow some ‘hair on my chest’. As if!’   
Crowley shot the young lady an appreciating glance.   
‘Young man, I don’t pay you to chit-chat!’ The chef said, her toothpaste grin now thoroughly askew.   
‘Young lady.’ The dishwasher corrected softly, and went back to her pots and pans. 

Crowley had seen enough. He had convinced himself that not only he was a bad cook, he was the worst cook in the history of cooking.   
Little did he know that Aziraphale had accepted the challenge. 

How many mistakes can an angel and a demon make in an hour? My dear reader, too many to write about.   
They baked the apple pie with onions instead of with apples, but miracles it so it smelled fine. (It should have been obvious that Aziraphale was using an apple peeler to peel an onion, but no one seemed to notice. They ruined the large mixer by attempting to mix toffee, fresh out of the pan and pellets of fudge.   
And then, as a piece de resistance, when the chef wasn’t looking, they decided that their pie should have been a créme brûlée after all, and Crowley set fire to it.   
He absolutely meant to set it on fire. He did not mean for it to explode. Pieces of now lethal-looking pie crust flew through the air, denting actual holes in the walls. Goopy onion sauce fell on the floor and started to melt it.   
The fire alarm went off. But the water coming from the sprinklers was no use against the greasy fire Aziraphale had just started by trying to put the entire mixer in the oven to make the fudge soft again. 

The other couples ran out, tripping over each other. One of them bumped into Crowley, who was just holding a large bag of flour. The flour rose into the air and caught fire.  
The chef fell unconscious. The dishwasher calmly typed in 999 on their phone, talked to the emergency services and hoisted her boss off the ground. Crowley helped her get them all out of the burning building.   
In the distance, sirens began blaring. 

‘I’m really sorry for your job, my dear’ Aziraphale tried to tell the dishwasher as she helped her boss away to the ambulance parked outside.  
‘Are you KIDDING ME? This was the best night of my LIFE! Bye Nanny! Bye, Brother Francis!’ Warlock called after them as she climbed into the vehicle next to the unconscious chef.   
‘Knew I recognised her.’ Crowley murmured. ‘HOW ARE YOUR GRADES, DEARIE?’ He yelled.  
‘DREADFUL!’ The cheerful voice came from the vehicle.  
‘That’s my girl.’ Crowley said proudly.

**Author's Note:**

> for Kazeetie!  
This was so much fun!!


End file.
